


Lammas

by crimsonherbarium



Series: Wheel of the Year [5]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Drinking, Gay Sex, Intimacy, Lammas, Lughnasadh, M/M, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Riding, Shameless Smut, Wheel of the Year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-08-01
Packaged: 2020-07-28 22:17:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20071501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsonherbarium/pseuds/crimsonherbarium
Summary: Lammas, or Lughnasadh, marks the beginning of the harvest season. It celebrates bountiful crops and the defeat of blight. At this time, the first grains and fruits are harvested, feasts are held, and offerings made.Lambert and Aiden aren't partaking in a large festival this harvest, but they find a way to make their own celebration.





	Lammas

Water cascaded down the slippery black rock of the falls, racing against gravity on its journey to the pool beneath. It burbled and splashed and sang, providing a musical backdrop to the merry crackling of their campfire that even Lambert had to admit was nice. The autumn wind was still warm, and the calling of the night birds lilting rather than ominous. He settled in on his bedroll, his back against a boulder, and sighed in contentment.

“Harvest brings fruits for us all,” Aiden said with a grin, holding up a loaf of fresh-baked bread he’d pulled from his saddlebag. 

They’d happened upon their last contract at an opportune time, finishing it just as the first harvest was being brought in. Tradition dictated the first sheaf of wheat be made into bread and the first of barley be made into beer, and as a result they’d been blessed with a loaf of harvest bread and two bottles of beer as a bonus for a job well done.

They broke the bread and ate it together with cheese and sweet fall apples as the smoke from the fire drifted high overhead. Aiden tore a bit of the heel and set it aside—an offering to the gods. Lambert didn’t participate in his murmured prayer, but neither did he tease or deride as he might have once. Faith wasn’t his way of navigating the Path, but it played a part in Aiden’s, and he was willing to respect that.

The beer was dark and bitter, and it sated Lambert well. He discarded the bottle on the grass and laid back, looking up at the stars through gaps in the canopy overhead. The warm buzz of alcohol grew slowly at the base of his skull, and he luxuriated in it. There were few nights on the path he could qualify as pleasant, but this—with his belly full, warming by the fire, listening to Aiden tell a story about a wild contract he’d undertaken as a fledgling witcher and watching the way he gesticulated to punctuate the tale—was the best he’d had in a long time.

Aiden furrowed his brow slightly and bit his lip, having lost his train of thought, and Lambert melted. It was in these moments—small, almost insignificant moments, ones where Aiden didn’t realize he was even watching—that Lambert loved him most. The shape of him. The way his eyes softened. The fine lines of his face, creased with thought, crinkling at the corners of his eyes. The subtle turn of his lips when he smiled to himself. The little valleys of shadow thrown by the dance of firelight over the scars on his neck. He was beautiful.

He realized with a start that Aiden was staring back at him.

“What are you thinking about?” the other man said with a mischievous smile on his face.

Lambert—damn him, damn his traitorous blood vessels—blushed.

“I see.” Aiden sank down on top of him, straddling his hips. “Lambert, Lambert. What would Hierarch Himmelfart say?”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass about the Hierarch and neither do you.”

Aiden smirked. “Perhaps.”

He leaned down and kissed Lambert. His mouth was warm and tasted of beer, dark and bitter, and something sweet. Lambert sighed, his hands coming up automatically to rest on Aiden’s waist, feeling the warmth of him even through all their layers of clothing.

“Things have been good lately, haven’t they?” Lambert said when they came up for air, interlacing his hands with Aiden’s and worrying at the silver band Aiden wore on his left hand with his fingertip. He still felt an unmistakable warmth in his chest whenever he saw it. It, and the matching one on his own left hand, were solid, tangible proof that this was real. He held onto them like anchors.

“What do you mean?”

“Just…all of it.” Lambert gestured vaguely, refusing to let go of Aiden’s hands. “Pay’s been good, contracts have been relatively easy. Haven’t been chased out of a village with pitchforks in a while. Good food, good booze…”

“And me,” Aiden finished.

“Yeah, and you.” Lambert pulled him down into a deep kiss, opening into it, tasting Aiden on his tongue, warm and sweet, his breath going increasingly ragged against him. The light rasp of his stubble against Lambert’s. That sharp juniper smell of him.

Aiden let go of his hands, and Lambert would have complained had he not immediately used one of them to palm the length of his stiffening cock. He let out a sigh, spreading his legs just a little, pushing up against him. He didn’t complain when Aiden’s hands drifted to the ties of his trousers, either, and shoved them roughly down his hips—as far as they would go before they got stuck, anyhow. Skilled fingers pushed his shirt up and traced their way down his stomach as Aiden’s lips did the same, his mouth hot against Lambert’s skin, until he reached the base of his cock.

He paused there, letting him sweat, the mere warmth of Aiden’s breath against his sensitive skin making Lambert shudder with anticipation.

“Whoreson—” he gasped, rutting up into nothingness, and then Aiden swallowed him, warm sweet mouth replacing cool night air, massaging him with his tongue as he moved his head up and down and gently fondled Lambert’s balls. The rest of his sentence was lost in indistinct swearing. Everything vanished around him: the waterfall, the sprigs of meadowsweet growing all around, the spitting of the fire as it consumed a pocket of sap. There was only the two of them, and Aiden’s mouth on his cock, and the way he looked up at Lambert through his lashes that always drove him to madness.

Though he didn’t remember doing it, Lambert’s hands were knotted in Aiden’s curls. He thrust upward into the other man’s mouth, seeking out friction and getting it immediately. Aiden knew him, knew every curve of his body, knew all the ways to make him come undone.

When he pulled back, eyes lidded, face flushed, Lambert almost whined at the loss. He forced himself back to sanity and redirected some of his energy into shucking off his clothes the rest of the way instead. Aiden stood and undressed in front of him, eyes locked on Lambert’s in a way that seemed even more lecherous than the cock sucking had been, and Lambert shivered.

He loved him. Loved the sight of him, naked and pale in the moonlight, scars crossing and marring his skin in dozens of places, unique and beautiful and _Lambert’s_. Loved the way he smelled, the sounds he made. Loved the warmth of him, the heat of his cock, hard as iron and beaded at the tip with precum. He’d probably made a mess of his trousers already. Lambert had a much less difficult time than he might have admitting that the thought turned him on.

Aiden had the oil already, drizzling it on his fingers and using it to liberally coat Lambert’s cock as he straddled him once more. Lambert thrust into his hand as he did so, pumping in and out of his fist, thinking to himself that if even a fraction of life felt this wonderful that it was worth having, until Aiden took his hand away and used it to spread oil on himself as well.

Lambert seized him and pulled him down into a ravenous kiss that would never be enough, never sate his appetite for more. Aiden reached back and took Lambert's cock in hand, guiding it until it was pressed against him, and slowly sank down onto it.

Every time was like the first time. Lambert growled somewhere deep in his throat, all inhibition long gone, and gripped Aiden’s hips tightly as he moaned against him. He threw himself into it, contracts and monsters and firewood forgotten, losing himself in the sensation of Aiden’s body squeezing tight around his cock and the feeling of skin on skin where his thighs rested on Lambert’s hips. He relished the effort of it, the resistance of it, thrusting upward in a steady rhythm and using his leverage to pull Aiden’s hips down hard against him as he fucked him like it was the only thing he wanted in the world, which might have even been a little bit true.

Aiden’s face was pure rapture, his skin flushed a deep red that extended down his neck to his chest, his golden eyes like pools of sunlight, his hair disheveled in that delicious way that only sex can provide, little moans escaping him with each thrust of Lambert’s hips, his breath ragged in his throat. One hand steadied himself against Lambert’s chest; the other had wandered downward and was stroking his cock in time with their movements.

If there was love to be had in this world, Lambert had it. If there was perfection to be attained, it was here already, in Aiden’s scars and the lines of his body and the way he tipped his head back to reveal the pale, tender flesh of his throat. Their twin rings glinted dully in the firelight, and Lambert grinned. He’d never really known what he’d wanted until it bit him in the ass.

Their movements grew wilder, their kissing clumsier and more insistent, as the fire grew low and the moon rose high and the two of them tangled up in each other with no hope of extrication. It was Aiden’s gentle hand on his face, the depth of emotion in his eyes as he looked into Lambert and didn’t flee from what he saw, the way he whispered “I love you,” so softly that the night almost ate the words before they reached Lambert’s ears, that sent him over the edge. 

Lambert cried out, thrusting up into him hard, clutching at him wildly for something—anything—to hold him together as he came completely undone. Aiden came moments later, panting hard, hot droplets of cum spattering Lambert’s chest, the rhythmic contractions of his body almost painfully overstimulating on Lambert’s sensitive cock.

It took both of them a moment to come back to themselves, gasping and shuddering against one another. Aiden’s eyes met Lambert’s and they laughed.

“I do love you, you know that,” Aiden said, leaning down and kissing him softly.

“Mhmm,” Lambert murmured sleepily, still working on regaining coherent thought.

Aiden arose and wet two rags in the stream, passing one to Lambert to clean himself off with. He flinched at the coldness of the water on his skin, but it felt good to be clean, and soon enough Aiden had settled in against him and covered them both with a blanket. Lambert wrapped his arms securely around Aiden’s waist, burying his nose in the crook of his neck, and breathed in the scent of him.

It was real, all of it, and good, and there was nothing that could take that away from him. He fell asleep to the burbling of the waterfall, with the harvest moon rising high overhead.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I've had a bit of a dry spell (ha ha) with writing smut, but despite that I ended up being pretty pleased with how this one came out. I'm so happy about the wonderful reception this series has gotten thus far. Thank you <3
> 
> If you enjoyed my writing, please consider leaving me a comment! I'd love to hear what you thought. The next story in the series will be for Mabon and will be posted September 21st.


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